Chapter 15

  Tarashak the Smoldering Storm was as pissed off as a demon could get. Everything had gone wrong. Everything was still going wrong. And who was to blame? Everyone, if he was honest. Well, he mostly blamed Ugrathar the Great Calamity — more like the Great Idiocy — because usually he didn’t want to be too honest. But in this rare moment of true reflection, he knew he and the other generals were as complicit in the ongoing downfall of the once glorious Fourth Ring as their obscenely powerful but exceedingly selfish and stupid lord had been. They should have stood up to him, force him to do proper governance, or kill him if he refused. The twelve of them should have been able to manage that; sure, individually none of them would have stood a chance — even though challenging a lord’s rule was always expected — but together they could have taken the hulking idiot on. After that, they would have fought it out between themselves until one of them could keep the title. But no, the generals, entrusted with the defense of the ring, had been too intimidated to even make suggestions to their lord, let alone start a fight with him. Laughable. Pathetic. Although not unprecedented, demons rarely felt shame. Tarashak did not like feeling shame, he did not like feeling responsible, and most of all, he did not like being honest with himself. Undemonic. But his reflections were not over yet.

  He had to admit he had been as overconfident as Ugrathar when news of the Third Ring’s invasion arrived at the castle. At that time everyone had thought the animalistic scum of the Third Ring couldn’t possibly pose a real threat. They never had. The best they could do was to serve up all the EXP they represented on a platter. That time only Riaret the Severing Strike had advised caution, recommending scouting parties to be sent, organising defenses and preparations for a proper campaign. The rest of the generals, including Tarashak himself, had been all caught up in Ugrathar’s stupid enthusiasm for a good fight and the possible EXP gains. What a mistake it had been. If they had listened to Riaret and sent scouts to confirm the details, they would have known the minotaurs and other beast-demons poring through the gate counted in the millions. No matter how mighty a warrior demon was, no matter how much skill and power a mage had, numbers had their own, cold way of dealing with them, especially if a certain Minotaur King of the Third Ring was prepared to sacrifice a million of his own to bring down the obstacles in front of him. Oh, and how that deplorable scum-king had indeed sacrificed his armies to advance, and to force Ugrathar to flee.

  And if that hadn’t been enough, some incredible bout of stupidity had compelled the idiot-lord of the Fourth Ring to bring his sole heir along for the fight. “The little pest needs some levels. This should help.” Or something along those lines. What in the name of all the curses of the Five Rings had he been thinking? He should have tucked the weakling runt away the moment the invasion began, because what kind of an idiot would serve up both himself and his heir along with the title of ruling demon lord to the enemy? But oh no, defeat had been an unthinkable, unknown concept to the now dead lord of the realm. At this point even a human of the surface world would make a better demon lord.

  Tarashak glanced at the human walking in front of him, followed by the heir, and shook his head. This was the brand-new problem that had left him seething. A human had indeed become the ruling demon lord. How had he even got to the Fourth Ring? And why? Was it through the rumoured dungeon the First Ring had established some time ago? Wouldn’t be unheard of that lone surface dwellers or small groups would wander into Hell through a dungeon, but … it was in the First Ring, not here in the Fourth. But who knows? Tarashak had to admit, he didn’t know as much about the surface or the Blessed as he would have liked. His generation of demons had never had to face humans, elves, dwarves, orcs and other creatures of the surface world, and certainly not their heroes with their unattainable power and levels so high it defied reality. But everyone knew the stories, and everyone knew even the dreaded horrors of the Fifth Ring had suffered such a defeat at their hands they hadn’t showed their nightmare inducing forms in the thousand years since. Surely, this human couldn’t be one of those heroes, could he? No, Tarashak and pretty much everyone else would have been dead by now. And the heir? A bloodthirsty hero of the surface world surely wouldn’t have taken a demon as his heir? But who knows, perhaps blood-bonding with the offspring of defeated foes was a regular thing for the heroes of the Blessed. And how had he even defeated Ugrathar and the minotaur champion, both well over level 40 skirting on 50? That weapon of his was something he’d never seen or heard of before, so that’s how.

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  That deadly thing was a part of a bonded item set, of this he was sure. Bonded items weren’t rare, most soldiers in his army had one or two — he himself had a few, including his robe — but a set? Even Ugrathar hadn’t had a set; establishing a set’s bond was expensive in terms of EXP, and they were notoriously slow and hard to level compared to a single bonded item. Just what level this human’s set had to be to lend him such frightening power? It didn’t even matter what level the human himself was; with a set like that, he was a force to be reckoned with.

  He’d taken a close look at the slain minotaurs while this new “Hellfire Lord” discussed matters of charms and psychic auras with his heir, and he had gained a basic idea of how that weapon of his worked. Just the Hell Mana consumption of it must have been enormous; to lob the tiny darts at such high speeds that neither armour, nor the flesh and bones of a level 50-ish demon lord could withstand it, was no ordinary feat. This new human lord of the Fourth Ring was dangerous. Once he aimed his strange weapon on someone, the speed of the darts were so insane that escape would be impossible. Sure, it was a relief he wasn’t from the Fifth, but still! Had the Blessed managed to develop their crafting and magic skills to such heights in the thousand years since demons last set foot in the surface world? Was this human really one of their dreaded heroes?

  The human, Hellfire Lord Hyde, ruling demon lord of the Fourth Ring — hopefully temporary — signaled that they were nearing the long row of archways that led out of the place. How he was managing to navigate in here baffled Tarashak, and the only thing he could think of was that his little flying scout-creature had some sort of skill to lead its master out, even from here.

  Tarashak decided it was time to put his thoughts and feelings of frustration and anger aside and focus on the immediate tasks at hand: sneak out, find the remnants of his army, find stragglers from other armies and nearby settlements — if they were still there — and mount a proper campaign to repel the invaders. He hoped Riaret the Severing Strike and Kralsen the Dreamer of Pain were still alive and fighting. He believed three generals who could take advantage of the benefits of being bonded to a demon lord — even if said demon lord was human — had a chance. And provided said demon lord wasn’t too stupid. Once they rid themselves of the Third Ring scum, they could fight it out between themselves and see who would manage to keep the title.

  The area that separated the forest of columns from the endless row of arches came into view, dead-fire demons and minotaurs covering the ground in their thousands. The human sent his flying scout ahead, through one of the archways, and relayed what he saw through the creature’s eyes.

  ‘They’re still there alright,’ he said. ‘I think they’re waiting just for us. Four, maybe five hundred of them. Do they not realise that in theory no-one should be able to get out of this place? I thought they would have left by now to leave us to starve to death inside here and find something better to do.’

  ‘No, I don’t think they realise. And even if they did, they have the numbers to spare.’ Tarashak replied, sighing.

  ‘Right. Numbers. Of course. Good stuff,’ the human muttered unhappily.

  Hm. Maybe this would be a good time to test the grounds a little and see if this weird, human demon lord would be a little more receptive to suggestions than the previous one.

  ‘Perhaps we should make our way along the edge of the Lost Pillars that way. We might find a spot free of the Third Ring scum, or less guarded at least.

  ‘Could they be guarding the entire length of this building?’

  ‘They could but they won’t. They’re … minotaurs. Numerous as the beasts of the Wilds, but only a tad brighter.’ Tarashak sighed wearily; they were certainly brighter than Ugrathar had been.

  ‘Good idea, Tarashak,’ the demon lord commented.

  How … interesting.

  ‘Shall we then?’ the archmage asked.

  ‘Yes, we shall,’ Hellfire Lord Hyde said, nodding.

  ‘Yes, we shall,’ his heir echoed him, grinning ear to ear.

  Ugh, perhaps dying by the hand of an actual hero wouldn’t be so bad after all.